


a little tomorrow

by lilabut



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Sexual Content, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: Carol and Daryl learn to adjust to the biggest change they could have imagined.AU where they never left the prison





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started writing this months ago, but never actually finished or edited it. But I planned to pick this up again after I'm done with _in bloom_ and inspiration hit me for this today. So, I figured I'd get the first chapter ready.

_It's amazing how a little tomorrow can make up for a whole lot of yesterday._

John Guare

 

Something is different this time. She can tell almost instantly, her body coming alive with a buzzing sensation that she can't quite put a finger on. It's warm, almost welcome, but so unfamiliar as it settles in her core.

 

Intuition, maybe. A sixth sense that stirs to life.

 

Daryl is still inside of her, his ragged breaths warm and damp against the side of her neck. He has one hand fisted into the sheets, the other pressed against her lower back, pulling her flush against him as the aftershocks of his release pulse through his body. Every shudder that wrecks him causes warmth and contentment to fill her heart and she holds him close, her legs wrapped tightly around his narrow hips.

 

There's nothing different about _this_. About the way he looks up and kisses her - deep and languid and both of them still breathless. The way he eases himself off her and wraps her in his arms afterward is familiar, a comfort that has become as necessary as air to her.

 

She feels sated and boneless, sleep already beginning to claim her as she presses her palm to his thrumming heart and burrows into him, naked skin warm and damp.

 

Something _is_ different, though, and when she wakes in the morning as Daryl slowly crawls out of bed to go hunting, the buzz she felt the night before is still there.

 

_Be careful out there._

 

Her words seem to take Daryl by surprise and he casts her a curious look as he pulls his shirt on. It's been a long time since she told him anything like this. It's a worry that never fades - quite the opposite. Every time he goes out there beyond the fences and the walls they have built around the prison, it feels like he's tempting fate.

 

Usually, it's a quiet reassurance he gives her. Today, she needs more than that.

 

_Promise,_ he murmurs, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. He dresses in silence after that, slips out of their cell with one of those barely-there smiles she treasures so much.

 

 

 

The afternoon sun is bright and merciless, and Carol wipes the sweat off her brows as she hangs up clothes to dry in the courtyard.

 

Judith giggles as she stumbles around the sandbox, fidgeting with the white hat she wears and eventually losing balance. She lands on her little diaper-padded butt with another giggle, smashing the sand castle Carl had built for her.

 

Carol watches the two of them, a sight for sore eyes that makes her heart swell even more than it usually does.

 

_Again!_ Judith demands, earning herself an eye roll from her brother before he reluctantly begins to rebuild the castle from the ruins.

 

_Sounds like asskicker's havin' the time of her life._

 

Carol spins around in a heartbeat, her vision fuzzy for a moment.

 

Daryl looks a little worse for wear - his hair slick with sweat and his clothes covered in crusted blood. It's been a long time since the sight of that upset her, but today her heart skips a frightful beat.

 

_Hey, 'm good,_ Daryl reassures her, clearly spotting the flicker of panic in her eyes instantly. He reaches out for her and she grabs his hand, allows him to pull her into his chest and wrap his arms around her. _Y'all right?_ he murmurs, his hand smoothing up and down her back.

 

She nods into the crook of his neck, curling her fingers into his ruined shirt - so overwhelmed by something she can't name that she has to blink away a few tears.

 

_I am now._

 

* * *

 

 

The feeling won't go away. It keeps her awake at night while Daryl has already drifted off into an always uneasy sleep. Into the early hours of the morning she lays awake and stares at the concrete walls of the cell they share.

 

During the day, it distracts her from her tasks, preoccupies her mind. She almost burns the rabbit Daryl brought back from his hunt, and she finds herself drifting off again and again as she teaches the children the proper way to holster a gun. The day's heat is stifling in the library and that's how she tries to explain it all away.

 

But deep down, she knows it's a silly excuse.

 

 

 

Daryl knows something is wrong, of course he does. He never says a word but she can feel the prickle of his worried gaze on her during dinner, can sense the stronger hold of his arms at night. He makes love to her slower than usual - long, deep and unhurried thrusts that drive her mad, but he seems to be in no rush. Kisses every bare inch of her sunkissed skin until she all but vibrates beneath him and falls apart with a muffled cry of his name.

 

When he asks Glenn to go on the scheduled run instead of him the next week, Carol knows he doesn't want to stray from her side.

 

She doesn't tell him to go.

 

* * *

 

 

It takes her another week to figure out what is wrong. Realization hits her like a tidal wave, completely out of the blue, and it leaves her behind feeling cold and terrified.

 

It can't be.

 

It just can't be.

 

There had been complications during Sophia's birth, and even before that she had miscarried five times. After, when Ed wanted another child - a son, he always only wanted a son - she couldn't get pregnant again. In all the twelve years that passed between her little girl's birth and Ed's death, she never carried another child.

 

And in the months that followed, her body seemed to adjust to the hardships it had to endure. She isn't too old, plenty of women carried children at her age before the turn, but she believed her body simply fast forwarded.

 

It's why she told Daryl to save the condoms he'd found for Glenn and Maggie the first time they'd made love, why she reassured him that having children of their own was no longer in the cards for them.

 

They never talked about it. After all, there had been no reason. There's little sense to dwell on what ifs - What if they had met before the end? What if she could still bear his child? What if Sophia had been _his_?

 

In all these months, nothing ever happened. But this buzzing feeling inside of her. She recognizes it now. She feels as much terror as she did over a decade ago - each time she found out she was carrying Ed's child.

 

With the world the way it is now, having children isn't a wish either her or Daryl harbored. Or so she thinks now as she stands under the spray of lukewarm water in the shower, pressing a hand against her flat stomach.

 

It can't be.

 

It must not.

 

* * *

 

 

Once the idea is planted in her head, she can't escape it. It becomes a festering ache that she can find no cure for.

 

Her imagination runs wild, filling her mind with colorful and bleak images alike.

 

Daryl with his son on his shoulders.

 

A little girl being ripped from her arms by rotten, blood-crusted hands.

 

Falling asleep, curled around Daryl with a tiny, warm baby cradled against his chest.

 

Listening to that baby's screams as it's torn apart.

 

But her mind goes further than happy and frightful glimpses into the future.

 

She wonders what would have happened if they'd met sooner. If they had been allowed to be a family.

 

She pictures a small farmhouse tucked away from the rest of the world, embraced by fields of corn and barley and wildflowers. She imagines dogs and cats and children running around. Imagines herself round and happy, feeling her child move inside of her, Daryl's hand cradling the swell of her stomach.

 

She pictures Sophia with her baby brother or sister in her arms, singing a sweet tune.

 

Those thoughts fill her waking hours as much as her dreams and all too often, the happiness fades into bleakness and terror and she jolts awake in the middle of the night, covered in sweat.

 

Daryl's arms wrap around her in an instant, his chin resting on her shoulder as he smooths his thumb over her knuckles. _Y'all right?_ he whispers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck. Oblivious.

 

_Just a dream,_ she replies, grasping his hand, curling herself into his welcoming, warm body.

 

She wants to share the burden and tell him, but she can't. Not tonight.

 

Instead, she falls into a restless sleep. Her daughter's eyes greet her in the darkness, empty and lifeless.

 

_Mommy,_ she whispers.

 

She sounds so afraid.

 

* * *

 

 

She can't tell him. Not yet. Not until she knows for sure.

 

He'll worry beyond belief. He'll blame himself. (a part of her is terrified he'll blame her, too. pull away and punish her for what she inflicted upon them.)

 

But she pushes those thoughts away. He's not Ed. He wouldn't hurt her. Not like that.

 

 

 

The changes are small at first, and she'd have missed them completely if she hadn't been waiting for them.

 

They all get regular hours of sleep these days, and yet even when she's granted a night free of terrifying dreams, she wakes up tired. The hours of the day pass by and she feels like a weight is pulling her down, eyelids fluttering as she pushes through.

 

When Daryl kisses his way down her body, nuzzling his face against the swell of her breasts, they ache under his gentle touch. When he palms the weight of them, she moves his hand away, further down to the heat of her core to distract him.

 

The scent of venison above the fire outside sends tears to her eyes and she has to hold her breath as she walks by, desperate not to lose her breakfast here in front of everybody.

 

When she does throw up for the first time, she's out by the vegetable garden. It hits her out of nowhere and she just barely manages to turn away from the cucumbers before she's leaning over and hurling up her meager lunch of scrambled eggs onto the green grass below.

 

She tries to talk herself out of it for the rest of the day. Doing her chores and repeating to herself that she's turning all this into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Reading needlessly into things that are most likely harmless.

 

The only reason for her constant fatigue is probably just due to all the extra work at the moment now that they're setting up A block to make it inhabitable. New people coming in every other week.

 

Her aching breasts might just be a sign of her body trying to tell her she might actually get her period again soon for the first time in over a year - a warning sign to prevent what she fears has already happened. She suffered from a soreness much like this for decades in the days leading up to it.

 

Maybe the venison was badly seasoned. She wasn't on kitchen duty that day, and she hadn't tasted a bit of it.

 

Maybe the eggs weren't good anymore.

 

But then she throws up again the next day. And the next. Wakes up in the middle of the night feeling nauseous and has to hurry to the bathrooms. When she returns, Daryl sits on the edge of their bed, hair a sleepy mess, waiting with a worried glance.

 

_Had to pee_ , she tells him the first and the second time.

 

After that, he doesn't wait up for her anymore. But she knows he's awake when she crawls back into bed, staring into the darkness of their cell.

 

* * *

 

 

She slips into the infirmary before dawn when most of the prison is still asleep. As she makes her way down the long hallway, nothing but eery silence engulfs her, and she can almost hear the pounding of her own heart where it bruises her ribcage.

 

The shelves and cabinets are well stocked with medical supplies and medication, they even set up a room for small surgeries last month. They all hope they won't need it for anything other than removing a big splinter, though.

 

She knows exactly what she's looking for, knows exactly where she stacked it when a load of supplies were brought in a few months ago. But the small basket is empty when she finds it. Not a single pregnancy test left. These days, she's not in the infirmary as much as she used to be. They have a proper nurse now who Glenn and Daryl brought in a few months ago. There's no more need for her own rudimentary skills.

 

Her fingers tremble as she puts the basket back into place, her heart stuttering.

 

Feeling sick all over again, she makes her way back to the cell. Tears dwelling in her eyes that she wipes away with her sleeve.

 

Daryl is awake by the time she returns, tying up his boots when she steps into the cell. He looks up at her for a moment, clearly surprised to see her fully dressed. _Where've ya been this early?_ he asks, reaching for the extra laces on the dresser to tie up the legs of his pants. He's going on a supply run with Sasha and Michonne today - and it feels like fate is trying to mock her with the perfect timing of it.

 

Sighing, she closes the door behind herself, her hand lingering on the bar for a stretched-out moment before she turns to face him. _The infirmary,_ she replies, swallowing the lump in her throat when the words come out breathlessly.

 

Daryl is instantly on alert, taking a quick step towards her. _Y'all right?_ he asks, reaching out until his hand ghosts over her cheek and neck, down her arm and back up until it rests on her shoulder.

 

She nods, not wanting to worry him more than she'll have to. _I need you to get something today._ Her eyes focus on his chest, eying a loose thread near the chest pocket of his shirt. He relaxes enough to drop his hand and reach for his vest.

 

_We outta band aids again?_ he asks, smoothing out the leather as he shrugs it on.

 

Carol shakes her head, suddenly so full of fear that she feels like she's about to faint. Until now, she was thriving of the hope that maybe she was wrong. That she would never have to mention this to him.

 

_I need you to find a pregnancy test,_ she says quietly, immobile and holding her breath. Waiting for the blow.

 

Daryl, however, doesn't seem to understand. Instead, he snorts, stuffing a fresh rag into his back pocket. _Jesus, who the hell got knocked up now?_ he asks, shaking his head. _Ain't Maggie again, is it?_

 

_It's not for anyone else,_ Carol clarifies and he looks up then, meeting her gaze with confusion. She takes a deep breath, fresh tears dampening her eyes. _It's for me._

 

He just stares at her. His face void of any expression. Quiet. Her blood rushes in her ears, her palms clammy and she furiously blinks the tears away that threaten to spill. She can't break now.

 

_What?_ Daryl asks then, the question harsh and she looks down at the concrete floor, at the threads of the rug Daryl brought with him two days after she complained about how cold her feet were when she got dressed.

 

_I need it, Daryl,_ she whispers, one tear finally spilling over. She was a fool to believe he wouldn't push her away. That he wouldn't blame her. Surely, he will.

 

She braces herself for whatever is to come. But then Daryl shakes his head.

 

_No,_ he says simply and in utter disbelief. His expression changes then, panic flashing through his eyes. _Ya said ya couldn't- this why ya've been so weird lately?_ he asks, taking a step towards her and then freezing again. _How long have ya known?_ His voice breaks a little when he asks, but it's not anger she detects in the words. It's disappointment.

 

_I don't know, Daryl,_ she whispers, wiping her tears away. _That's why I need the test._

 

He shakes his head again, mutters under his breath. _But ya said-_

 

_I really thought I couldn’t anymore,_ she reassures him, taking a step towards him, desperate to make it clear she did not risk this on purpose. Why would she? Especially after her little girl... _I promise,_ she sobs, curling her arms around herself. _I'm so sorry, I should've-_

 

_Hey, hey,_ Daryl says then, interrupting her. In an instant, he breaches the distance between them and curls his warm hands around her upper arms. _Stop. This ain't ya fault._ She takes a shuddering breath and looks up at him, feeling dizzy. _Ain't anyone's fault,_ he says softly, cupping her cheek in his hand. Desperate for his touch, she leans into him. Closes her eyes for a moment. _An' if it is, then it's on both of us._

 

He's right, she knows he is. But the reality of it all suddenly washes over her like icy water. _What if I am, Daryl?_ She shudders at the thought, reaching up to curl her fingers into his vest to hold herself steady.

 

He smooths his thumb over her cheekbone. Tries to put on a brave face but she can see the terror in his eyes. _Let's find out first, all right?_ he suggests, pressing his forehead against hers. _Be sure._ Carol nods, but she know she won't find a minute of rest until he returns. _I love ya, ya know that, right?_

 

She nods at his whispered question, and he seals the words with a kiss that's gentle and light but lingers. When he pulls away, she sighs at the loss. _I'll see ya tonight,_ he promises, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 

She wishes he could stay. That she could ask someone else to collect what they need but she knows it's not an option now.

 

He grabs his crossbow and heads towards the door, the metal screeching as he pulls it open.

 

_Daryl?_ she calls after him, and he turns instantly.

 

She wants to tell him that she loves him, too. Wants to tell him to be careful, to come back to her. There's so much she wants to say but she can't and he knows it. Takes two wide steps until he's pressed against her and kisses her again. Deeper now, more urgent. Full of silent promises.

 

* * *

 

 

They wait until the prison has fallen asleep. Until the concrete walls are filled with nothing but silence. An occasional murmur. Judith's fussing.

 

Daryl’s hand is curled around her's in a tight grip as they make their way to the bathrooms. The test tucked away in the waistband of her pants. Hidden by the cardigan she wears.

 

She has no more tears to cry.

 

Daryl seems somber. His earlier hint of confidence and reassurance dissipated. His fingers tremble against hers. His steps are brisk.

 

Outside of the bathroom, he turns to her. Holds her face in his hands. She sucks in a deep breath, lowers her head until her forehead rests against his collarbone and he holds her there. Steady. Soothing.

 

But she knows he's barely holding himself together.

 

When she closes the bathroom door behind herself, she can hear him mutter a curse under his breath.

 

 

 

She knew this would be the result. Knew she wasn't imagining things, knew she could trust her own body. Still, when she glimpses down at the stick in her hand and a pink plus sign stares back at her, she falls apart. Silently. Inside, locked away.

 

Daryl sucks in a sharp breath, and then they're both very, very quiet.

 

Neither of them seems to know what to say when there is nothing to be said. This is it. This is what's happening to them and they can't go back and change it now.

 

She doesn't realize how much she shivers until the test clatters to the floor of their cell. Her knees buckle but before they give in, Daryl has his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his embrace.

 

_Come 'ere,_ he murmurs, voice thick and choked like he's biting back tears. His cheek finds the crown of her head and she burrows into his chest, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his shirt. This is how she wants to stay. Cocooned in his warmth, pretending that they did not make a huge mistake.

 

_Ya gotta take it easy now,_ he murmurs. His voice sounds almost lifeless. Dry. Emotionless. The sound of it frightens her and she tightens her grip on him, pushbikes herself closer. Trying to crawl under his skin. _Let the others do some work._

 

She shakes her head, feeling her tears trailing down her cheeks and soaking into his shirt.

 

_Y'always workin' too hard. Let 'em do some shit for once._

 

She doesn't miss the hint of anger or the tension in his arms as he holds her. It's something she has felt before. Months ago when they first started taking their relationship further. He'd been worried and terrified and it manifested as anger and skittishness.

 

_They'll know,_ she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. Trying to take deep breaths and inhale the familiar scent of him that usually brings her so much peace and comfort.

 

_Gonna find out anyway,_ he mutters, his warm hand sliding up and down her back at a steady rhythm that brings her no comfort now.

 

_I- I miscarried. Before I had Sophia. More than once,_ s he confesses for the first time. Talking about it opens old wounds, and they sting deep in her soul. _What if- They can't know._

 

Slowly, Daryl pulls back. Enough to look down at her and she reluctantly meets his gaze. His thumb brushes away a few tears.

 

_Go see the doc, at least?_

 

There's a pleading quality to his voice that makes her heart crack and she nods with a heavy heart.

 

 

 

There's not much Caleb can do for her when she goes to see him a few days later. He gives her some vitamins. Takes her vitals. Asks her questions about her previous pregnancies and her cycle.

 

Tells her things she already knows because she has done this before.

 

In the end,he rests a hand on her shoulder. Offers her a kind smile.

 

_We'll take care of you._

 

* * *

 

 

The next two weeks, Daryl pulls away. Leaves to go hunting before the break of dawn and doesn't return until the sun sets.

 

Goes on supply runs and scouting missions more than anyone else. Even more than before.

 

When he's there, he's not. Takes extra watch shifts, does repairs, helps reinforce the wall.

 

He is avoiding her and even when he can't, he's not really there. Is distant and quiet, walking on eggshells. He touches her with silk gloves like she's breakable and fragile and he never says more than necessary. At night, he's stiff by her side and sleep evades them both.

 

But she allows him this distance even though she needs him now more than ever before. He needs to come to terms with this before he's ready to help her do the same.

 

It happened before. After they first kissed. After they first made love. He felt terrified and inadequate and needed time. Distance. But never for long.

 

 

 

Eventually, he comes back.

 

He finds her out on the lawn one afternoon, sitting in the shade of a large brush. Wordlessly, he sits down next to her. Takes her hand and entwines their fingers.

 

For a few minutes, they are quiet. Watching the animals grassing a few yards away, listening to the birds chirping above. It's peaceful.

 

_Don't want kids,_ he says eventually, his voice bitter and quiet. _Never wanted 'em._ She assumed as much, and all that keeps her from falling apart is the reassuring pressure of his hand against her own. _Always figured world would be better off without any more Dixons around. Don't know shit 'bout bein' a dad._

 

He doesn't look at her. But when she turns to look at him, it's easy to see the blame and remorse in his features. All the demons still haunting him from his childhood.

 

_I don't want a baby now either,_ she confesses with a hoarse whisper. It's something she hasn't been willing to really admit to herself until now. The instinct to love this life growing inside of her is rooted much deeper than her grasp of logic. Making her shudder at the idea of rejecting her own baby.

 

_Their_ baby.

 

Daryl nods. Another minute passes in silence until he speaks again. This time, he looks straight at her. _Ya know what I do want?_ he asks, and she shakes her head. Carefully, he reaches out with his free hand and rests it against her stomach. _Wanna have a baby with_ you _. This baby._ Her heart skips a beat at the love she feels pouring from his words and touch. _Just... can't lose ya, 's all._ He sucks in a shuddering breath, looking down at his hand. _Sorry I couldn't..._

 

She silences him, gently pressing he pad of her fingers against his lips. _Don't be._ With just the barest hint of pressure she moves to cup his cheek, head falling forward until her forehead is pressed against his. _I need you, though,_ she whispers, trying but failing to keep the despair from her voice.

 

He nods, wraps his arms around her to pull her against him. Holding her as close as he can.

 

_Gonna keep ya safe,_ he promises, pressing his lips to hers. _Both o' ya._


	2. two

Things change when they start telling people, just like she expected and feared they would.

 

They tell just the rest of the council at first. The others are surprised, yes, but happy for them. Excited and thrilled. And when people start suggesting she should take it easy, Carol understands. It makes sense. As much as she hates burdening the others, she knows she has to look after herself and her baby now, make that a priority rather than everyone else.

 

But all too quickly, they take it too far. They handle her with silk gloves, like an egg that's about to crack, a flame flickering in the wind. Like she's breakable and frail. Like _before_.

 

Rick takes her off the watch schedule entirely, resulting in additional shifts for Tyresse and Glenn. She's taken off laundry duty, too. Beth takes over half of her shifts in the kitchen.

 

It leaves her with barely anything to contribute. Teaching the kids three times a week. Cooking twice a week.

 

She feels useless. Restless. More like a burden than she has in a very long time, since those early days on the road after the farm fell when she hardly knew how to protect herself and had to rely on everyone else – on Daryl – to keep her alive.

 

The only reason she doesn't demand more work is because she knows Daryl will worry. But he notices. And when Beth comes to her, asking her for help in the kitchen, she knows the girl didn't come up with that plan on her own.

 

 

It takes a few weeks for her to settle into her more quiet routine. She finds other things to do, eventually. Helps Hershel catalog the books in the library. Starts a new inventory in the pantry. Lighter, easier work.

 

And she gets to spend more time with Daryl than she was able to do before. Endless afternoons spent in his arms, soaking up the last rays of autumn sunlight.

 

Maybe, just maybe, it's all right to be a little selfish right now. To make the most of this precious time.

 

 

 

She's roughly four months along when it happens. When she wakes in the early hours of dawn, caught in a sleepy daze. Her head pillowed on Daryl’s chest, his hand a steady pressure against her lower back.

 

At first, she feels fine. Warm and cozy, safe and loved. It's moments like these she treasures more than anything, that mean more than anything now.

 

But then she notices something. Damp and uncomfortable and her eyes open wide when realization dawns on her.

 

She's sitting up in an instant, waking Daryl in the process and his own eyes widen in horror when she withdraws her hand from her panties, fingers coated in blood. Glistening in the moonlight.

 

 

It's nothing, in the end. As far as Caleb can tell, the baby is fine. But that doesn't stop Daryl from roaming the infirmary in his pajamas, hissing questions and commands and nearly pulling his own hair out.

 

_Daryl,_ Carol whispers, reaching out her hand and catching his wrist. Pulling him closer to where she's still sitting on the chair. He instantly stills, the pleading quality to her voice not missed.

 

_'m sorry,_ he breathes, and then his arms are around her and she's pulled into his chest. A firm, warm embrace as her silent tears soak his shirt. _'s gonna be fine, sweetheart,_ he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

 

An empty promise.

 

 

 

Caleb puts her on bed rest for a month after that. It's draining, maddening.

 

Staring at the concrete walls of their cell, it all too quickly starts to feel like a cage. It doesn't matter that they tried to make it home with pictures and plants and little knick knacks here and there. After one too many afternoon, it starts to suck the life from her.

 

Daryl tries his best. Brings her books, finds her magazines with crosswords. She starts to knit scarfs and hats and socks for the winter, all shapes and sizes. Patches up Daryl’s clothes.

 

But she misses a brisk walk around the courtyard, misses feeling useful.

 

In the lonely silence, her thoughts can wander freely. Imagining her worst nightmares.

 

 

When Caleb finally allows her to move around again, it feels like a relief. She's still supposed to take it easy, and she does.

 

 

The next month, Daryl finds a sonogram machine. He'd been looking for one for weeks, and when he returns with Glenn and Tyresse wearing proud grins, Carol thinks she's dreaming. He's bashful about it when Caleb and Hershel clap his back, blushes and seeks out her hand.

 

They'd been looking for one for a while, ever since Maggie first got pregnant. But most hospitals had been wiped clean or destroyed, and for a while, they didn’t have the means to transport one or even install it and hook it up to their generator.

 

With the new solar panels, they have a chance to at least use it every once in a while.

 

 

When they do, when Carol looks up at the grainy screen and sees her baby for the first time, it's a miracle all over again.

 

Daryl's hand is clasped tightly around hers, and she can tell he's holding his breath, staring in awe and the black and white image. His eyes shimmer with tears he's struggling to hold back, and Carol smiles, running his thumb soothingly over his knuckles.

 

_Look at that,_ he whispers, softly shaking his head.

 

_I know._

 

* * *

 

There's light glowing inside their cell, telling her Daryl is already back from his shower. He'd been out hunting all day, and she'd only gotten a brief glimpse at him when he strode past everyone as they ate dinner.

 

He's sitting on the edge of their bed when she steps inside, slowly closing the door behind herself. Two large candles are lit, filling the room with a soft glow.

 

_Hey,_ she breathes, leaning back against the door for a moment. She's tired and the soles of her feet are aching, but she allows herself this short respite. Just to watch him. Clad in fresh pajamas, his hair still damp from his shower, holding the print of their baby's picture in his hands.

 

They keep it tucked away in the nightstand, their own little miracle to marvel at.

 

He looks up with a smile, but she knows he heard her coming. _Hey._

 

In three strides, she's by his side, cupping his face in her hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. He tastes as much of toothpaste as she does, and she relishes in the softness and his hair and scrubbed skin.

 

_Ya feelin' all right?_ he asks when she pulls back enough to rest her forehead against his. She nods in response, smiling when one of his large hands finds the swell of her stomach. Resting there.

 

_We're good,_ she promises, feathering a trail of kisses from the corner of his mouth to his ear.

 

 

She slips into bed with him a few minutes later, the mattress soft, thick blankets like a cocoon that she sinks into with a sigh. Daryl finds her easily like he always does, wrapping her up in his arms until her back is flush against his chest.

 

His hand finds her stomach again, cradling it as his thumb brushes circles through the cotton of her shirt.

 

_Love ya,_ he rasps, nudging his nose against the side of her neck and she falls asleep with a hazy smile curling her lips.

 

 

 

She used to have nightmares all the time. Before. She'd wake up slick with sweat and with ragged breaths in bed next to Ed. Some nights, he wake her with a hand to the face or a kick in the back.

 

Usually, it was him she saw. And even _after_ , that didn't change. After he died. At night, she'd still see his face haunting her. His hands grabbing her. Choking the life from her.

 

Sophia. She saw her, too. Her little girl all withered away. Calling for her. Crying for help until her cries turns into snarls and nothing was left of her baby.

 

But after a while, the nightmares became less frequent. A rarity, almost.

 

Until now.

 

Now they haunt her almost every night.

 

 

She jolts awake with a gasp, still feeling the pain deep in her stomach where her baby was torn from her. Dead and limp.

 

_Shhh,_ Daryl soothes, his arms around her already, rocking her gently. _'s all right._

 

It takes her a moment to realize it wasn't real. She struggles in his embrace, gulping down much needed air, her hands fumbling as she presses them against the swell of her stomach.

 

She can't explain it to him. They never talk about what it is she sees – or what _he_ sees when his own demons haunt him. All he can do now is hold her. Smooth his hand through her hair and whisper sweet nothings into the crook of her neck. Brush away her tears and hold her hand against his heart until her breathing slows down.

 

He can give her the comfort she so desperately needs.

 

But he can't erase the memories of what she sees night after night and the fear those images stir deep inside of her.

 

The fear of losing this baby, too. Of not being able to protect it.

 

Just like Sophia.

 

* * *

 

Daryl rarely goes on supply runs anymore. Only every now and then when they need him to track or just need an extra hand, he comes along. But only short distances. Only the safe ones. Nobody complains about it. Glenn had done the same when Maggie got pregnant. Back then, Daryl had taken his place.

 

Maybe once a month he still heads out now. He does, however, still go hunting as much as he did before. A few times a week he slips out in the early hours and comes back late.

 

Carol never tells him not to go. She knows they need the extra food he can bring in. And, more importantly, she knows he needs to be out there. In the woods, in the wild, away from the walls and fences of the prison. It's his sanctuary in so many ways and she'd never dream of taking that away from him.

 

He'd stop going if she told him to. Without a moment of hesitation.

 

But she won't force that on him, even though she can't rest easy until he returns. Always afraid that one day he won't.

 

 

 

It's a rainy day. Gray clouds thick and heavy in the sky. She tells herself that's why they're not back yet. It's been too long. It was supposed to be a quick run to the strip mall a few miles away.

 

But they're not back.

 

Back and forth she paces, watching the ran hit the ground, deep puddles soaking the grass in front of the prison already. She can hardly make out the gate from this distance. Shivering, she wraps her arms more tightly around herself. Waiting.

 

 

They come back just before sunset. Bruised and battered. Two people less than left the prison this morning. But he's there. She watches him climb out of the truck, immediately searching for her in the crowd.

 

When he sees her, he pushes past the others, ignores all their questions. In four wide strides he's right in front of her.

 

_Oh God,_ she gasps, seeing all the blood that's soaking his shirt, splattered across his face.

 

Softly, he shakes his head, and then she's falling into his arms.

 

_'m fine,_ he promises, his voice hoarse and bitter as he holds her in a bruising embrace, nearly lifting her off her feet.

 

She struggles to breathe, hands clawing at his ruined shirt. _What happened?_ she asks, afraid to hear it. She can hear someone crying. Doesn't know yet who did not make it back.

 

_Herd,_ is all he mutters, burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply. _Thought I'd- Shit._

 

 

She takes him to the shower room. Locks it behind them. Helps him out of his clothes and sheds her own.

 

The water is lukewarm at best, washing away trails of blood, angry and red against the tiles.

 

Daryl holds her close, runs his hands up and down her bare back until he settles them against her stomach. She leans into him, let's him map her out and understand that she's real. That he's still here.

 

_Thought I'd never see ya again,_ he chokes over the rush of the water, his eyes squeezed shut. _Was damn close this time._

 

Her heart skips a beat just imagining it, and she so desperately wants to tell him to never leave her again. But it's impossible, not practical. They don't all get to be selfish. This place won't work if they are.

 

_Thought I'd never see-_

 

He breaks then. Tears spilling over as he sobs against her collarbone. Her own tears follow, trailing silently down her cheeks and spilling into his hair until the water washes all traces of them away.

 

 

 

That night, he makes love to her like he hasn't done in a long time. It's drawn out, languid, desperate in a way it usually is not.

 

He holds her close, wraps himself around her until no inch of her skin remains untouched. She pants and whimpers, overheated and overstimulated as he kisses her long and deep, pushes into her over and over, no more than rocking his hips against her own. The stretch and weight of him grounding her just as much as she seems to ground him.

 

Locking her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, she lets go. His head buried in the crook of her neck, repeating her name like a chant again and again. Showing her how much he loves her.

 

Carol feels too dazed to say anything when he slides his hand down between them and sends her flying. Every muscle in her body tensing and releasing until she feels too boneless and breathless to do anything other than let him find his own release.

 

Afterward, she finds shelter in his arms, his fingers drawing gentle patterns against her stomach. Legs entangled, her hair tickling his chin and his heart beating soundly beneath her ear.

 

Neither of them says anything because there is nothing to be said. All they can do is live in this moment, treasure it and keep it locked away in their hearts.

 

* * *

 

With a sigh, Carol cranes her neck, waiting for a relieving crack that never comes. She's out in the yard, watching Judith draw with chalk on the concrete floor, wrapped up in her thick yellow coat.

 

It's a lovely day. The sky powder blue and the air crisp. In the distance, the trees sway a little in the wind, the leafs red and yellow and orange. Vibrant and alive. The sound of laughter and people talking fills the yard like a constant, comforting thrum.

 

Just as she is about to pick up her book again and read another chapter, Carol spots Maggie walking towards her, her baby boy in her arms. _Hey,_ she greets as she sits down on the bench by her side. There's a glow to her cheeks from the cold, just like the little boy's. _How are you doing?_

 

_I'm fine,_ Carol replies automatically and with a well-practiced smile. But they have known each other long enough by now for Maggie to raise her brows at her. _Tired,_ Carol adds with a light roll of her eyes and a smirk. And my back is starting to kill me. She presses her hand against her tailbone where it aches the most and has for days. Not even Daryl's efforts at kneading the pain away have helped much.

 

_God, I could barely walk towards the end,_ Maggie groans, gently rocking her son. _How is Daryl holding up?_

 

He's out getting firewood with some of the others at the moment. A safe enough task but ever since the ill-fated run two weeks ago Carol can barely find a moment of rest when he's gone.

 

_He-_ she starts, the question lingering in the air between the two women. _I think he's more terrified than I am,_ she finally admits. Maybe she shouldn't talk about this with Maggie. But she's not sure if there's anyone really fit to discuss this with. _After Lori..._

 

She trails off into silence, her chest constricting at the memory of her lost friend. Suffering that same fate is a fear Carol can suppress no less than the fear of losing this baby before she ever gets that far.

 

Maggie's face darkens, and her smile fades as she gives one slow, heavy nod. _I couldn't sleep. I was so scared,_ she whispers, cradling her son closer to her chest. _All I could think about was her._ For a long moment, they are both silent. Maggie had been there. Had witnessed it all. Had held the knife and- Carol pushes those thoughts away.

 

Eventually, Maggie sighs and shakes her head almost as if to shake off the memories. _But you know what helped me? I looked at her,_ she says with a smile, nodding at Judith. _How happy she is. How loved. And I knew- I knew it would all be okay._ Gently, she presses a kiss to the baby's head, covered in wispy, dark hair. It's a mesmerizing sight that Carol finds herself drawn to. It fills her with warmth and dread alike.

 

_I hope so,_ she breathes, resting a hand against the growing swell of her stomach. _I can't- I can't do it again, you know?_ She doesn't dare raise her voice more than a whisper, afraid of it breaking. The loss of Sophia is something that she will never be able to shed. And to suffer that same fate again... _And Daryl-_ She fails trying to imagine how he'd cope should they lose this child. How he'd cope losing her. After all, he has come so far. Has grown so much. Would it all crumble?

 

Maggie looks concerned, her eyes full of sadness. But Carol doesn't allow it to last long. T _here's no use to this,_ she decides, the words coming out a little harsher than she intended. _It'll be fine or it won't be._

 

Maggie nods. _Yeah._

 

Judith giggles in that moment, having drawn a spectacular shape that doesn't seem to resemble anything and now the sunlight catches it just right to illuminate the bright yellow chalk. Carol smiles at the little girl who looks so much like her mother.

 

A small whining sound draws her attention back to Maggie, who is repositioning a suddenly very squirmy baby in her arms. _Oh, someone's hungry,_ she explains, laughing softly as she stands up. Before she walks away, she offers Carol one last smile and one last promise.

 

_Whatever happens, we're here for you. No matter what._

 

* * *

 

It had started out simple enough when Maggie and Glenn brought some things over to their cell that they no longer need for their son. Somehow, though, it lead to this.

 

Daryl is pacing their cell with tense shoulders and balled fists, going on and on about all the new things they need, about everything they do _not_ have, about the crib that's falling apart in his opinion and needs to be replaced.

 

After a mostly sleepless night, Carol is exhausted and she sighs, unwilling to put up with this much longer. _Daryl, we don't need that,_ she says when he suggests going on a run to the furniture store a few towns away just to get a brand new crib. _The old one is going to do just fine._

 

_'s a damn piece o' shit,_ he grunts, his anger not directed at her and still it's a little jarring. _All creaky an' chipped._

 

_That doesn't matter,_ she tries to convince him, grateful to have the option of a crib at all. The luxury of the prison rather than the harsh brutality of the road.

 

_Course it fucking matters,_ he says a little louder, looking at her exasperatedly. _What if the creakin' keeps the lil' one awake? Scares it? What if it breaks? Gotta get somethin' new. Somethin' good. Gotta-_

 

She's on her feet quickly as he talks himself into a rage, knuckles white and eyes glassy. _Daryl,_ she interrupts him, pressing both hands flat against his chest. Holding them there as he calms down, huffing out exhausted breaths. _This isn't about the crib, right?_ she asks carefully, feeling the swell of her bump press against Daryl’s stomach.

 

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he looks down between them with a shamed expression. Probably mad at himself for losing his temper. But she can see through the anger now, can see how wounded he is beneath it all. _Had nothin' as a kid,_ he mutters, flinching a little when she takes one of his hands in her own. _Nothin'. Don't want our- Shit,_ he grunts, pressing his hand to his face. _This ain't how I want it to be._

 

He nods at the cell that they've made their home and she understands. She wants to give this child everything and so does he, but there's so little they can offer. And even all that is fragile and could be taken away in the blink of an eye.

 

_Me, neither,_ she says softly, taking a step closer and leaning into him as sadness cloaks them. _But it is what it is._

 

She knows he heard her, knows that he understands but he doesn't react at all. Is just as tense as before. When he speaks again, his voice is higher than usual, cracking as he tries to articulate what he usually keeps locked away.

 

_My old man- ya know how he was,_ he mumbles, his fingers twitching against her palm. _'s all I know, Carol._ He looks into her eyes then, and for the first time she sees true fear in them. Not panic or shock, but actual, deeply rooted fear. _I ain't got a clue 'bout being a father. A good one. What if I-_

 

_Stop._ The word is harsh and loud and clear and he is quiet in an instant. Staring at her, a little taken aback. Carol takes a step closer, tightening her hold on his hand and resting her free hand against his cheek. _You're not him. You never will be,_ she promises, keeping her voice soft but clear. Immediately, it seems like he wants to disagree with her, all his doubts crawling to the surface but she's not allowing them a chance to twist his thoughts. _You'll need to learn, everyone has to._

 

Deep in her heart, she knows he'll be a wonderful father. Kind and caring, protective. He'll love this baby more than he thinks himself capable of. There are other things he'll need to work on. Things that don't come naturally to him but she's not even a little worried about that.

 

Softly, she brushes her thumb over his cheekbone. _But you're not him and I don't want you to think, even for a second, that you are._ He can't look at her, struggles to breathe evenly and it hurts to see him like this. It's not often that they talk about their pasts, but when they do, it's usually just as raw and painful as it is now. _Promise me,_ she pleadingly whispers, nudging the tip of her nose against his.

 

He draws in a shuddering breath, wrapping an arm loosely around her and allowing his forehead to rest against hers. _Promise,_ he breathes hoarsely, and she knows he means it. Knows he'll at least try.

 

 

 

The next time he goes on a run, he brings back a handful of books on pregnancy and babies. A little bashfully, he puts them down on the small table in the corner of their cell which will soon have to make room for the crib.

 

But he has no reason to be embarrassed about it all.

 

 

They read them together. Curled up in bed under thick layers of blankets with mugs of steaming tea as the days grow cold and harsh outside. Making notes and learning things together. Trying to memorize it all and soak it all in.

 

* * *

 

On Christmas Day, a thin layer of frost covers the grounds around the prison, sparkling in the sunlight. They brought a small tree into the common area, strung up as many Christmas decorations as they could find. A fire crackles cozily, and they all sit gathered around the tree.

 

Beth sings a soft tune, accompanied by the joyful giggles of her nephew.

 

With a content sigh, Carol leans into Daryl’s side, nuzzling her face into the warm crook of his neck. He hums, pressing a kiss to her temple as he draws her closer. They’re both clad in thick, fuzzy sweaters and matching socks, a mug of steaming cocoa in front of them – they'd even opened a bag of mini marshmallows for the occasion.

 

Candles are flickering all over the room, and everything smells of pine and the pancakes they'd made for breakfast.

 

Everyone is happy and content. Peaceful. None of them really believing that they can actually enjoy the holiday spirit after everything they have lost and endured.

 

_This is nice,_ she whispers, smiling as Judith tears open her present.

 

Daryl nods softly. She knows he doesn't have any Christmases to compare this to. It fills her with warmth knowing that his first proper Christmas is the one she gets to spend with him.

 

His hand is cradling her growing stomach, tracing back and forth across the reindeer that are crocheted onto the woolen sweater. It's hideous, but warm and cozy and not nearly as hideous as the little elf on his own sweater.

 

_Hershel should've worn the costume,_ he mutters then, and Carol bites back a giggle. Carl had tried talking Hershel into dressing up as Santa Claus for Judith, but the man had refused. _I feel cheated._

 

Gently, Carol nudges Daryl's ribs, but he is quicker than her. Pressing two fingers beneath her chin he tilts her head up, pressing his lips to hers for a brief kiss. It's a rarity for him to do this when the others are around. As comfortable as he has grown with intimacy with her, he still fights his low self-esteem with someone there to witness it.

 

She appreciates the kiss even more because of it.

 

_Merry Christmas,_ she whispers against his lips, her heart stuttering when she feels him smile.

 

 

 

It's that evening when they talk about Sophia for the first time.

 

Carol never could before. Never spoke her name when it could be avoided. It hurt too much. But she kept it all locked inside and that only made the pain worse over time. But she swallowed and ignored that as well. Let the throbbing ache inside of her grow and grow.

 

But now, curled up in her softest pajamas in bed with Daryl, the scent of a few cinnamon scented candles filling the cell, the sound of a Christmas record playing downstairs, she feels too sentimental to hold it all back.

 

_She used to love Christmas,_ she murmurs, trailing her fingers along the buttons on Daryl’s shirt.

 

He's quiet for a moment, and when he replies, his voice is low and careful, the single word measured. _Sophia?_

 

Just barely, Carol nods against his chest.

 

_She'd always help me decorate the tree and put up the fairy lights and she went crazy at the store windows,_ she remembers, seeing images flickering in her mind that she pushed away for too long. _You know, the ones which are all made up for Christmas?_

 

Daryl nods, gently sifting his fingers through her hair.

 

_She would just stand there and look at them,_ Carol continues. She can see her little girl as clearly as if she was here right now. All bright glowing eyes and a wide smile. _She was so happy. I never saw her that happy._ Her voice falters a little as a lump begins to form in her throat but she doesn't let that stop her. This might be the only time she's brave enough to talk about this.

 

_And even if she didn't get what she wanted, she seemed happy. Ed would- Some years he wasn't so bad._ It could never make up for how he was so often, but she'd always cherish those times, especially at Christmas, where it was easier to pretend they were a happy family. _She would have enjoyed today,_ she breathes then, the loss of her daughter now closer to her heart than is has been since she found out about the new baby.

 

Daryl continues with his delicate caress, waiting for a while, maybe to give her the chance to say more. _Wish I could've found 'er for ya,_ he murmurs eventually, and there's more grief in his voice than she expected. She always knew he was angry at himself for giving her false hope back at the farm. She understood very early on that he identified with Sophia and made her his responsibility at a time when they were nothing to each other.

 

Sophia was a loss for him, too, which is the only reason he shut her out after her death. She knows that now.

 

_Me, too,_ she whispers. So many times she has imagined how different things would have been if Daryl had found Sophia and brought her back to the farm. Colorful what ifs all sketched out in her mind. _I miss her. Especially now,_ she confesses with a quiet sob, finding his hand that's resting low on her belly. _She would've been so excited._

 

Sophia had always dreamed of a baby brother or sister. Pretending that her dolls were her siblings. Taking care of them and playing with them. Maybe it was because Ed never allowed her to have many friends or spend much time with them.

 

Imagining her reaction to this baby is what finally breaks Carol. The tears fall freely, and her sobs are choked and muffled as she burrows into Daryl's embrace.

 

_Hey. Come 'ere,_ he says softly, tucking her into his side and wrapping himself around her until she can't tell anymore where she ends and he begins.

 

_I miss her so much, Daryl._

 

 

He holds her until she has no more tears left to shed, until her chest and stomach ache from the heaving breaths she had to take. Until she's too exhausted to open her eyes.

 

The last thing she hears before sleep claims her is Daryl’s whisper against her ear. _'m so sorry, sweetheart._

 

* * *

 

Carol has never been more grateful that they found the prison than she is now that winter is hitting them hard. There's a thick layer of snow covering the grounds and the trees and the cold wind is harsh and unforgiving.

 

Everybody stays inside as much as they can, all huddled together.

 

They have it good here. Have enough supplies to keep them warm and healthy and enough food and water to keep them fed.

 

But they do have to ration more than before to make it work.

 

Daryl, however, doesn't quite stick to the rules.

 

She doesn't miss the way he tries to sneak her parts of his rations, even though she is already getting a little more due to her pregnancy. She tells him not to do it, to keep his own strength up and still he keeps trying every now and then.

 

In addition to that, he has some food stashed away under their bed. The first time he showed her she'd been mad, asking him to bring it to the pantry and share it with everyone else. But he insisted that he scavenged it himself, that is wasn't much. Just a little something to help her through the winter.

 

It's sweet, in its own wrong way and she gives in.

 

Still, she feels bad when she devours a chocolate bar one particularly cold night.

 

 

Two days later, she finds out from Maggie that Glenn has done a similar thing, and they share a good laugh over two mugs of steaming hot tea.

 

 

She remembers the winter on the road too well. How unforgiving it had been. How cold and lonely and terrified. Starving, freezing. She'll never take the comforts they have now for granted.

 

She remembers the first winter here at the prison, when everything was still a mess after the Governor's attack. When they were just getting everything running again, settling in, making changes.

 

Now, it feels like they all finally arrived.

 

 

 

Not a single cloud obscures the night sky. It's a pitch black canvas, granting them a spectacular view at the millions of shimmering stars above.

 

_Movin' a lot today,_ Daryl murmurs, pressing his hand a little tighter against her stomach where their baby is moving around restlessly. Carol hums, already feeling the kicks against her bladder increasing.

 

A gust of cold wind rushes through the guard tower, and she shivers in Daryl’s arms. _Ya cold?_ he asks, too observant for his own food, holding her a little tighter.

 

_I'm fine,_ she assures him, tucking her head beneath his chin. They have plenty of blankets and cushions up here to keep them decently warm. She can't deny that she wishes they could be in bed right now instead, but she'll take what she can get.

 

_Y'ain't gotta sit out here with me,_ Daryl says, rubbing his hands quickly up and down her arms to warm her up. _Should be inside with the others._

 

_It's New Year's Eve, I want to be with you,_ she whispers. There's a party going on inside, something to keep everybody's spirits up. While she'd enjoy the company and the warmth, she's happy right where she is. Sasha brought them up some food earlier, and it's only two more hours before Daryl's watch shift is over.

 

She looks up at him, propping her chin against his chest and grinning. _Or did you invite a hot date over?_

 

He snorts. _Stop,_ he rasps, surprising her when he leans down to kiss her slow and deep, making her shiver for a whole other reason. When he eventually pulls back, his hand finds her cheek, and his lips whisper against the corner of her mouth. _Love ya._

 

_Love you, too,_ she breathes, knowing she'll never tire of hearing or saying the words.

 

A few more minutes pass mostly in silence. There are only three walkers at the fences, all of them quiet, frozen into the ground.

 

With a sigh, Carol pulls back the sleeve of her coat, squinting as the moonlight shines onto her watch.

 

_Happy new year,_ she whispers with a smile, and the next kiss Daryl gives her lasts a lot longer than the one before.

 

* * *

 

As nervous as she is for every appointment, Carol watches as Caleb takes on last note in her chart before turning back to them.

 

Daryl is standing by her side, holding her hand so tightly that she's afraid there's no blood left in it. On the screen, they can still see the grainy image of their baby, so much bigger than last time. It's much easier to point out the shape of an actual human now, and Daryl had been glued to the screen the whole time.

 

_ It's all looking good, _ Caleb announces, looking pleased.

 

_Ya sure?_ Daryl asks, leaning forward, trying to peek into the chart. Carol can read everything Caleb wrote done, and it's mostly just measurements and her vitals and everything she has told him about how she's feeling.

 

Luckily for Daryl, Caleb is very understanding. _Yes, Daryl,_ he assures him with a smile. _As far as I can tell, everything is perfectly fine._

 

_Far as ya can tell?_ Daryl repeats, clearly not convinced. Carol reaches out to rest a soothing hand against his arm. There's no use in getting upset after all. They're lucky enough to have a doctor at all. They need to trust him.

 

_Well, obviously I can't do all the tests I'd like to do,_ Caleb explains, and Carol gives him a nod to let him know she's fine with all this. _Now, would you like to know if it's a boy or a girl?_ he asks then, taking Carol a little by surprise. _Or do you want it to be a surprise?_

 

_You can see?_ she asks, not even having considered that until now. It simply hadn't been on her mind. It's not important, and she feels that for the first time now. Caleb nods, waiting patiently for a reply.

 

Suddenly overwhelmed, Carol looks up at Daryl for an answer. He looks just as shocked, curious and mesmerized. _'s your decision,_ he says softly, tucking a curl of her hair back behind her ear.

 

She takes a deep breath and turns back to the screen. _I think I've had enough surprises for a lifetime,_ she sighs, and the two men chuckle softly. Caleb clicks through a few of the pictures he saved, and as he does, Carol reaches for a towel to wipe the clear lotion off her belly.

 

_All right then,_ Daryl says impatiently, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. _Spit it out, doc._

 

Carol's heart races a little as Caleb points at one particular photo, her fingers clutching the towel while the other hand holds on to Daryl.

 

_Looks like a little girl to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this :)
> 
> Next (and last) part should be up next week.


	3. three

A blizzard is wreaking havoc outside, the wind whipping relentlessly against the concrete and brick walls of the prison, cold creeping in through every crack in the facade. Snow piles up out on the frozen grounds.

 

It's too cold, too dangerous to go outside and Daryl has been confined to the prison for the last four days. Much longer than he ever goes without leaving, and she can tell he's tense. There's nothing to help him work off that tension when he can't hunt, can't drive the bike.

 

Nothing except her.

 

He's kissing his way down the back of her neck as she runs a brush through her hair, suckling at the skin while his hands skim up and down her sides. His chest presses into her back, hips already rocking against her ass and she doesn't have to guess to know what he's up to.

 

It's been a while since they slept together. Most nights, she's too exhausted, in too much discomfort, or there just isn't an opportunity. And while Daryl would never make demands or make her feel guilty, she knows he's starved for it.

 

But she's not sure she can give him what he wants. Feels heavy and bloated, dark circles under her eyes and worry lines creasing her forehead.

 

When his hand finds the waistline of her pants and slips underneath, smoothing deftly down her thigh, she squirms. _Daryl, stop._ He does so instantly, taking a step back. She turns and sighs, putting down the brush. _Why would you even want to?_ she asks, looking down at herself. At this point, she can't really make out her feet anymore beneath the swell of her stomach.

 

When she'd been pregnant with Sophia, Ed had gone above and beyond to let her know just how undesirable and unattractive she was to him. He'd called her fat and ugly, unworthy of even his attention. Even now, so many years later, she can't shake the echo of those insults. She might know that Daryl would never say anything like that to her, but there's a deeply rooted fear chilling her blood that he might _think_ the same.

 

His face softens and he takes a step closer again, his hand cradling her cheek. _Cause I love ya,_ he says plainly like it's all the answer that's necessary. And maybe it truly is, but it's not enough. He leans in to press his lips to her forehead, her temple, ghosting over her cheek until he gives her the softest, most delicate kiss. _Cause you're beautiful._

 

Her eyes flutter shut when he moves lower, past her jaw and down her neck until his lips find the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. Pressing a row of kisses there while his hands find her hips, holding her steady.

 

It feels good, so good that she almost wishes she could just push all her insecurities aside. But she's still tense and Daryl never misses a thing. He pulls back, presses his forehead to hers.

 

_Ya don't wanna cause ya don't wanna or cause ya think I don't want ya?_ he asks hoarsely, clearly suppressing all his urges and desires. All his pent up frustration that he has no means of releasing right now.

 

_Both,_ she admits quietly, looking down at his chest as a twinge of shame hits her. She shouldn't doubt him.

 

But he's quick to reassure her.

 

His fingers finger her chin and lift her head, his blue eyes clear and full of determination. _Want ya,_ he rasps, the two words sending a spark down her spine. _All the time. Ain't ever gonna change,_ he promises, sealing it with a kiss that's slow and deep and makes her whimper.

 

When he pulls away she knows he's waiting for her to make a choice. _I feel like a dumpster,_ she confesses with a humorless chuckle, trying to mask the insecurities she really feels.

 

_Sure as hell don't look like one,_ Daryl murmurs, his hands ghosting from her hips up her rib cage until his thumbs graze the undersides of her breasts. They're much bigger than they used to be and she knows he appreciates it, can see the lust in his eyes as he peaks down at them.

 

She smiles in spite of herself, always amazed by how quickly he can lift her spirits. Intrigued by the desire that he wears on his sleeve she leans in a little closer and presses a kiss to his jaw before nuzzling her nose into the pulse point on his neck.

 

He hums contently, cupping the weight of her breasts in his hands then, the peaks hardening and straining against the cotton. She feels powerful watching his reaction to her touch, something she never believed she could feel in these moments. But when she trails her hand down his chest and grazes over the still very prominent bulge in his sweatpants, he shudders and bucks into her like nothing has ever felt as good as her touch.

 

_Y'ain't gotta do that,_ he chokes when she slides her hand into his pants and curls her fingers around the base of him. Warm and hard and heavy in her palm as she begins to stroke him. She knows he'd physically pull away to emphasize his words but he's too worked up, too deprived of her touch for his body to cooperate.

 

_I want to,_ she breathes into the crook of his neck, moaning softly when he squeezes her breasts a little harder than before. _Maybe it'll put me in the mood._

 

It's not a promise, but she can already feel herself melting in his arms and she can't help but smile when his eyes light up.

 

_Well, if that's the case,_ he rasps, but it quickly turns into a grunt when she glides her thumb over the tip of him.

 

 

When he peels away her clothes a few minutes later, Carol doesn't feel the least bit self-conscious. She feels treasured and cherished, desired. His eyes are dark and hooded as he pulls her against him, his chest flush against her back.

 

When he moves into her in one smooth glide she doesn't feel any pain or discomfort. She feels warm and safe, full in the best way as he rocks into her gently, his lips ghosting over her neck, hand entwined with her own.

 

They make love slowly, carefully. Making silent promises and falling over the edge with each others names a soft whimper on their lips as all stress fades away in an instant.

 

* * *

 

It's bitterly cold for weeks, much colder than the last two winters have been. Cold enough that not even the walls of the prison can offer much shelter. There are few places to light a fire and people are mostly confined to their cells, seeking warmth from one another.

 

The most comfortable moments now are when she's in bed under three layers of blankets, Daryl's arms wrapped around her and a hot water bottle by their feet. His hands smoothing up and down her back, kneading away sore spots, his lips chapped but warm against her skin.

 

In those moments, it's easy enough to forget all their troubles.

 

Water is becoming harder to come by now that the stream has frozen over. They're struggling to keep the animals alive. Food rations are becoming smaller and smaller as they start to run out of everything they have harvested, grown and scavenged over the summer.

 

Still, it's better than last winter. Everything is running more smoothly, people are calmer. It's a learning curve for them all and maybe next year, nobody will have to go hungry.

 

* * *

 

As soon as the first snow melts, they send people out on runs again. It's still unsafe and a fight to pass the roads, but they have no other option. They need to stock up on everything they've used up, and after all this time, people have to venture further and further away from the prison to find things.

 

Daryl goes out more often than he did before the winter hit them. Not because he wants to – she can tell it hurts him to leave her behind in the way he kisses her harder and holds her closer. But they need things for the baby and they don't have too much time left.

 

Some essentials are still here and usable from Judith and Maggie and Glenn's baby. The crib she convinced Daryl to keep, plenty of clothes, a little carrier, even a few toys. But there are other things they desperately need. Diapers, medicine, medical supplies, powder and oil.

 

So, week after week he heads out and comes back with everything he can find. Things she put on the list, others that he stumbled across. One day, he brings back the softest, pale pink blanket with little roses stitched onto it. Blushes as he hands it to her and she nearly cries from her heart being so filled with love.

 

But something has been weighing her down, a particular request that she knows he won't like. Today, though, she really needs to tell him. She has put it off long enough.

 

He's shrugging into his coat when she finally finds the courage.

 

_There's something else you need to look out for,_ she says, worrying a loose seam on her pants with her fingers. He turns and waits for her to tell him, still tired from a restless night. _Formula._

 

His brows crease for a moment. _Ain't ya gonna-_ he starts, waving vaguely at her breasts and blushing a little high on his cheeks. It would be endearing if she wasn't so afraid of his reaction.

 

_I want to,_ she tells him. She had breastfed Sophia for a long, long time and doesn't want to miss out on the opportunity now. _But...,_ she begins, trailing off into a loaded silence for a moment. _We should have something in case... In case I can't._

 

She could just be implying struggles to breastfeed. Knows that Maggie had trouble at the beginning. And maybe that will be the case. The worst case scenario. But that's not what she's talking about and Daryl realizes it quickly.

 

_Stop,_ he says sternly, his face hardening and his hands balling into fists. The single word almost sounds like a demand, one that she can not obey. It's not within her power. _Ain't nothin' gonna happen to ya,_ he continues, nothing gentle about his words. There's anger laced into the words, anger she knows stems from fear. _Ya gonna be just fine. Both o'ya._

 

_Daryl-_ she starts with a soft and hopeless voice, but he won't let her. Instead, he crosses the cell in two strides and cups her face in his hands. His touch is oddly gentle compared to the boiling red heat she can see flaming in his veins.

 

_No,_ he grunts. _'s gonna be fine, ya hear me?_ She sucks in a sharp breath, desperately wanting to reassure him. But it would be false hope and she won't ever burden him with that.

 

He can see the indecision and the fear in her eyes and some of his anger melts away. _I need ya,_ he whispers, leaning his forehead against her own. _Can't- not without ya._ His voice is choked and strained like he's biting back tears. She can see them glistening in her eyes and she knows exactly what he's afraid of. It's a fear she shares.

 

If she loses him, she's not sure she can move on. Or that she'd even want to. After all, she has lost too much already.

 

But Daryl... No matter what might happen to her, he needs to live. She can't rest easy unless she knows he's the one to keep their daughter safe.

 

Even as a tear spills over and trails down her cheek, she forces herself to smile. _Yes, you can,_ she breathes, reaching up to cover one of his hands with her own, feeling the dampness of her own tears coating his calloused skin. _I know._ He shakes his head but she only squeezes his hand harder. This is something she needs him to understand. _You'll keep her safe. I'm not scared of that anymore,_ she confesses.

 

It's the truth. For months, she had feared the birth like she never feared anything in life. The memories of Lori's loss too sharp. Not because she was afraid of losing her own life, but because of the uncertainty of what would happen after she's gone. It's something that no longer wears her down.

 

Daryl doesn't seem convinced and she knows he never will be. It's a losing battle but she tried. _I just-_ she sighs, leaning into his touch. _I'd feel better if we're prepared._

 

He's quiet for a long moment, the dreadful possibility of losing her haunting him and she can see him shiver at the thought.

 

_All right._

 

* * *

 

She's seeing Caleb every other day now to make sure everything is fine, that her little baby girl is doing well. As time passes, they make more concrete plans for the birth. He takes notes on everything she can tell him about Sophia's birth and the complications that arose, an issue he tells her not to worry about too much in advance. They discuss the options for a c-section should that become necessary, and she knows Caleb is preparing for it. Just in case.

 

 

One day, when Daryl is out on a run and she has to go see Caleb on her own for the first time in weeks, she is finally able to say something that's been on her mind all this time.

 

_It's not going to be easy,_ Caleb tells her about the c-section they won't be able to avoid should her daughter not turn a little more in the upcoming weeks. It's a terrifying thought, even with their well stocked medical supply. _Or safe._

 

She appreciates Caleb's honesty, and is still glad he tells her calmly enough for her to not panic completely. _It might be the only choice though,_ she sighs, shrugging. He nods and turns to take some notes. With trembling fingers, Carol rolls down her shirt, feeling her baby move inside of her in a joyful little dance.

 

_Caleb?_ He hums but doesn't look at her straight away. The words don't come out easily, and she knows Daryl would have a piece to say about them if he were here. _If anything goes wrong... save the baby,_ she pleads quietly. _Please._

 

Caleb doesn't say a word. She can see the reluctance in his eyes for a moment. But then, thankfully, he gives her a short nod that puts her at ease.

 

 

 

_I think ya gonna like that,_ Daryl murmurs, his hands splayed over her belly as he talks to their little girl about nothing and everything from the taste of chocolate to spending balmy summer nights outside. _Can take ya to the lake, teach ya how to swim,_ he promises, pressing his lips just above her belly button. _Eat some of them wild strawberries._

 

_She knows it's you,_ Carol says with a smile. The bed is comfortable beneath her, and they both smell of a clean shower and freshly washed sheets. _She moves a lot when you talk._

 

_'s hurtin' ya?_ Daryl asks, instantly full of worry, but she shakes her head.

 

_I'm fine._

 

He presses another kiss to her stomach, lingering there. Softly, Carol sifts her fingers through his hair, silky and warm. _Love ya so much, ya know that?_ he murmurs suddenly. His words, although he has spoken him many times before, take her a little by surprise. He crawls up the bed and she yelps a little when he kisses her. Full of enthusiasm and nervousness, a little messy but oh so perfect. When he pulls away, his eyes shine. _Wanna marry ya._

 

It takes a second for her to process his words. _What?_ she asks, not having expected this at all. He never seemed like marriage meant a whole lot to him, and it hardly means a thing now in this world anyway. It never meant much to her after she said her vows to Ed. Quite the opposite, it turned into chains around her wrists and ankles that she couldn't shed.

 

_Want ya to be my wife,_ Daryl explains simply, nudging his nose against hers. _Wanna be your husband._

 

He sounds so serious about it, his voice trembling with nervousness. It's a sweet thought to call him her husband, she can't deny that. For a moment, she allows herself to paint the image in her head, and it puts an easy smile onto her lips.

 

_Me in a white dress and you in a suit?_ she asks with just the lightest tease in her voice, but he shakes his head.

 

_Don't care 'bout that,_ he mutters. But at the same time, she notices him rummaging through his back pocket, and then his fingers find hers. Graze over her palm in a feather-light touch. Leaving something cold behind.

 

She looks down with a light gasps. Two silver rings rest in the palm of her hand, shimmering in the candlelight and suddenly the weight and seriousness of his question brings tears to her eyes.

 

_How long-_ she starts to ask, wondering just how many times he meant to ask her but couldn't make himself, couldn't find the courage when he should know for sure what her answer would be.

 

Her question trails off into silence as she stares at the rings, beautiful and simple.

 

_Found 'em last month,_ he replies quietly, barely above a whisper. She looks at him then, overwhelmed and happy in an all encompassing way. _Will ya?_ he asks shyly, the fear of rejection that he'll never be free of clear in his every breath and in the way he looks down at the mattress instead of her face.

 

_Yes,_ she breathes, giving him no time for doubt as she leans up to kiss him. There's no doubt in her mind that this is right, that this is what she wants even though the idea has never really crossed her mind.

 

They say their vows right then and there, mostly in silence as they slip the rings onto each other's finger and seal it with another kiss that turns into many more, all soft and gentle and full of promises.

 

* * *

 

Spring returns slowly at first. The days growing warmer, the sun brighter. A progress that's almost missed until one day, suddenly, the trees are green and the flower blossom around the prison. There's a delicate beauty to it that Carol appreciates more now than ever before.

 

Most afternoons, she spends sitting on the grass, watching Judith play. Picking flowers and weaving crowns, dancing on wobbly feet, singing and telling stories to herself.

 

Normalcy returns to the prison.

 

Until one night, it doesn't.

 

 

She's torn from sleep by a high-pitched scream that chills her to the bone. Sitting up straight in bed, adrenaline rushes through her veins. In the faint moonlight she can't see much.

 

_Daryl!_ she gasps when someone screams again, an agonized wail. He's half out of bed already, slipping on his boots, although she can't make out much more than his silhouette. _What's wrong?_

 

More screams. Feet rushing against the concrete. The prison awake like a hive of terrified bees. Daryl grabs the crossbow, shoves a knife into her hand.

 

_Stay here,_ he orders, and her eyes blow wide when he moves to leave.

 

_Daryl!_ she cries, scrambling out of bed as fast as she can and grabbing his arm just as another scream tears through the night.

 

_Gotta help._ He's stronger than her, could easily slip from her grasp but he doesn't. Not yet.

 

_No, stay,_ she pleads with a furious shake of her head. Her free hand presses against her stomach, fear curdling her blood. _Don't go out there._

 

_I gotta,_ he chokes, knuckles turning white as he grabs the bow tighter. Just the thought of him out there, of him away from her, makes her want to pull him closer. It's more terrifying than the telltale moans that drift towards them from below.

 

_Let me-_ she starts, pointing at her own boots, ready to come with him but he doesn't even give her the chance to finish her sentence. Instead, he steers her, gently but determinedly, back towards the bed.

 

_No! Stay here,_ he says again, lingering for a moment as if in doubt before pressing a deft, desperate kiss to her forehead and rushing out of heir cell. Shutting the door behind him.

 

_Daryl!_

 

 

It was one of the Woodbury people. An older man. Richard. There's not much Caleb can say other than that he died naturally. Probably a heart attack but they'll never know. All they do know is that they have five bodies to bury before the break of dawn, blood and guts to wipe clean from the concrete.

 

It's like the house of cards they built came crashing down in a single second.

 

 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Carol waits. She saw Daryl earlier when she went outside after everything went quiet. He'd been fine, carrying one of the crying children back to their terrified parents. He'd looked at her from across the room, giving her a short nod.

 

Telling her he's all right.

 

A rosy glow fills the cell as the sun begins to rise outside. When Daryl returns, his boots and hands are covered in dirt from digging graves and carrying bodies, but his eyes are what she can't look away from. Empty. Full of remorse.

 

He doesn't say anything right away. Wordlessly kneels down in front of her and takes her hands. _'m sorry,_ he murmurs, looking down at their entwined hands. _Should have stayed. Shouldn't have-_

 

_Is everybody else okay?_ she asks, not meaning for her voice to sound so cold but she needs to know this. Can't listen to his apology when she's still mostly in the dark about what happened.

 

He swallows deftly, and with a heavy sigh. _No._

 

His thumbs brush over her knuckles, his chest pressing into her knees. He's warm and real and alive and it only reminds her of how close she came to losing him. How easily he threw his own life away.

 

_Are you okay?_ she asks eventually, brows furrowed as she looks down at him. He nods, squeezing her hands a little harder. Like he's afraid she's going to pull away.

 

_Don't tell me what to do,_ she says then. Her voice clear, thick with tears that she fights to hold back. _And don't- don't just run._ The last few words are no more than a breathless whisper. All the anger she felt before evaporates now. She's disappointed but she understands why he went out. Why he felt obligated to help. And she understands it was smart for her to stay behind. But the way he _left_ her behind, that's something she can't so easily forgive.

 

_'m so sorry,_ he repeats, sounding more like a wounded animal than he has in a long time.

 

Slowly, she leans down until her forehead presses against his. He smells of blood and sweat, feels hot and trembles like a leaf.

 

_I know you think you can't lose me,_ she whispers, freeing one hand to rest it against the side of his neck where his pulse races. _But what makes you think I can lose you?_

 

* * *

 

It's a perfect spring day. Warm and sunny with a powder blue sky. Daryl is in a good mood when he kisses her goodbye to go hunting, and Carol can't help but smile into the kiss.

 

He's barely out of their cell, however, when she sighs in discomfort. Her lower back has been giving her trouble all night long, keeping her from finding even a wink of rest. Irritated and annoyed, she presses her palm against her tailbone, taking a few deep breaths.

 

The pain is gone quickly, but in the absence of it, she feels uneasy.

 

 

When it comes and goes for the next few hours, quicker and quicker and nearly sending her tumbling down the stairs from the severity of it, she recognizes it for what it really is.

 

 

 

It's too early. She's not due for few more weeks and it doesn't matter that Caleb tries to reassure her that she shouldn't worry about it. This isn't how it was meant to be. Daryl is still out and there's no point sending someone out to get him when he's the only one with a real talent at tracking.

 

Maggie is by her side instead, holding her hand each time a new wave of pain hits her. The afternoon sun shines brightly into the infirmary, mocking her with the joy of this day.

 

_I can't!_ she hisses, the pain rippling through her in a way that's both familiar and unexpected.

 

_Yes, you can,_ Maggie reassures her, smoothing her hair off her sweat-slicked forehead. _You can do this._ Carol's only reply is a pained mewl. She feels like she's being torn apart from the inside, biting back a louder scream because she doesn't want to frighten everyone else.

 

It's all happening so much faster than she anticipated. With Sophia, she'd been in labor for almost twenty hours before she even got close to pushing, but now she can already feel her body getting ready, contracting and releasing and robbing her of her last breath. The only thing she feels grateful for right now is the fact that her baby turned and the c-section Caleb was so worried about will mostly like not be necessary.

 

_I know it hurts,_ Maggie says softly, squeezing her hand a little tighter. _Just a little longer, you're doing so great._ It's an empty promise but Carol soaks up the comfort it offers anyway.

 

_Daryl- I need-_ She feels like she can't do this without him by her side. She doesn't want to. He can't help anymore than Maggie can, the rational part of her knows that. But the other part, the one that's driven by hormones, stress and fear wants nothing more than him right now. Holding her, giving her strength.

 

_He'll be here soon,_ Maggie promises, and Carol doesn't miss the frightened glance she throws at Caleb who is listening to the baby's heartbeat. _Just hold my hand,_ Maggie says then, her other hand pressing softly against Carol's belly. _Focus on this._

 

 

 

_Carol!_

 

She can hear him hollering in the hallway outside the infirmary, his footsteps thundering and he storms into the room a second later, the door smashing into the opposite wall. Carol cries out in relief and pain alike to see him standing there, sweat pearling on his forehead and some squirrels still strung over his shoulder.

 

He drops them and the crossbow mindlessly to the ground and crosses the room in three wide strides, completely unhinged and she feels sorry for whoever had to break the news to him. _How is she?_ he asks Caleb, barely even noticing Maggie as she steps aside to make room for him. _She all right?_ He doesn't wait for an answer, just turns to her and grasps her hand in both of his. _Y'all right? Sweetheart, 'm so sorry._

 

_Why did you have to go out there? s_ he hisses, trying to will the pain away as it tears through her and she's barely coherent enough to speak. _Why couldn't you-_

 

_'m sorry._ She's squeezing his hand hard enough to bruise but he doesn't pull back. Hovers over her nervous and restless and smelling like the woods. She knows that he could not have known this would happen today – after all, she was just as surprised. But in this moment, any reasonable thought is beyond her.

 

_Breathe, Carol,_ Caleb tells her, lost somewhere between her legs and she wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. How did they even get here? _You can start pushing soon._

 

She shakes her head viciously, not ready for any more pain, not ready for this baby to be born, for the fear and the responsibility. _I can't,_ she insists, gritting her teeth.

 

_Yes you can,_ Daryl encourages her, all gentle voice and heaving breaths. _Breathe, sweetheart._

 

She does take a deep breath even though it burns from her lungs down to her core, and this time she can't hold back a cry of pain.

 

_Breathe,_ Caleb repeats.

 

_I know!_ she all but shouts, grabbing Daryl's hand tighter and wishing it could all be over.

 

 

It doesn't last long after that. As she starts to push, she barely takes notice of Daryl's encouraging words, of the way he holds her to him, barely hears what Caleb says. It all blurs until finally, _finally_ it's over.

 

_Is she- is she all right?_ she gasps instantly, voice hoarse and her throat raw. Everything is silent for a deafening second and she panics instantly, trying to look down at her baby but she can't see. Fumbles for Daryl but he's turned away and-

 

A high-pitched wail fills the room and she has never heard anything as beautiful.

 

Caleb stands up then, a squirmy little thing in his arms and her eyes fill with tears. _I want- I need-_ she gasps, trying to sit up but her vision blurs as she does.

 

_Easy, sweetheart,_ Daryl says softly, supporting her weight and grabbing a nearby pillow to help her. _Easy._

 

She nods, trying to calm her breathing. Her body feels numb and spent beyond what anyone should take but it doesn't matter. Not when Caleb walks up to her with a smile and hands her baby to her. Tiny and warm against her chest, crying at the cold, gray world she's been born into.

 

_There you go._

 

* * *

 

_She's so tiny,_ Daryl whispers, trailing his finger gently down their daughter's cheek. Wrapped in her soft blanket, deep asleep, cradled against Carol's chest. Barely weighing a thing, all pink skin and rosy lips, a dusting of blonde hair on her head. There's worry in Daryl's tone, too, and he slides off the side of the bed to take a step towards Caleb. _She supposed to be this tiny?_

 

_Well, she's a little early, so that's to be expected,_ Caleb explains, drying his hands and smiling reassuringly first at Daryl and then at Carol. _But she seems very healthy overall. We'll keep a close eye on her._

 

_But ya sure she's-_

 

_Daryl,_ Carol says hoarsely, and he whips his head around instantly. Weakly, she reaches out her hand, fingers trembling from exhaustion. _Come here._

 

Carefully, he sits down on the edge of the mattress again, pressing his lips to the crown of her head and Carol nuzzles into his side, breathing him in.

 

_She's just... She's so small,_ he murmurs, looking down at their daughter with awe and disbelief in his eyes. She knows he never thought he'd have this and it's mesmerizing to see him soak it all in. His hand hovers over their baby, ghosting over tiny fingers and feet and a round belly. _Can I?_

 

His words make Carol's heart clench. _You don't have to ask,_ she whispers, holding the tiny bundle out to him. He takes her into his strong arms with so much care and gentleness as if he's done it a million times. _She's yours._

 

He adjusts his position a little, cradling their baby girl against his chest. She's almost swallowed in his arms but doesn't stir, happy and content and exhausted. Daryl slowly shakes his head. _Ours,_ he whispers. _She's ours._

 

Carol sighs when he leans down to press a soft kiss to her lips, her eyes fluttering shut. _So proud o' ya,_ he murmurs.

 

She never felt more content, more sure that they did the right thing than she does in this moment. Curling into Daryl's side as he rocks their daughter, finally allowing herself to rest without fear.

 

* * *

 

**four years later:**

 

_Daddy! Daddy!_ Carol stirs from her sleep, groaning into Daryl's chest. He does the same, his arm around her waist tightening. The bed shifts as their daughter jumps on top of it. _Wake up!_

 

She sounds mighty stern for someone so small and Carol cranks open her eyes. Their little girl is kneeling next to her father in her favorite and very well worn sloth printed pajamas, bouncing impatiently up and down.

 

It's barely past dawn judging by the light rosy glow that filters in through crack in the door and Carol burrows a little deeper into Daryl.

 

_Come on,_ she insists, tugging at Daryl's arms.

 

He groans, eyes still shut tight. _Five more minutes, kid,_ he grumbles, but his words are not met with mercy.

 

_No, you p'omised._

 

He sighs and opens his eyes then, looking down at Carol for help. _You did promise,_ she says sleepily, nuzzling her nose into his shoulders before rolling off him and nudging his side.

 

_Traitor,_ he murmurs, and she smirks at him. _Rose, how 'bout ya go ahead an' wash up. 'm gonna be right out._

 

The little girl nods enthusiastically, nearly tumbling off the bed in her eagerness to spend the entire day outside with her father. He's promised her a trip to the lake a while ago, and with the weather so kind in the first days of summer, it seems like the right time.

 

He turns onto his side when Rose starts rummaging through the drawers, pulling out some clothes and tossing them onto her bed that's squeezed into the corner of the cell. They've talked about her getting her own cell with Judith soon. The place is getting too cramped and both Daryl and Carol are desperate for some privacy.

 

She can tell even right now when he steals a kiss, his hand squeezing her waist under the blanket.

 

_I bet you really wish we'd used a condom right now,_ Carol murmurs, lips curled into a smile against his as their daughter hums a cheerful tune to herself, oblivious to anything else.

 

He nuzzles into Carol's palm as she ghosts it over his graying beard. _Nah,_ he says quietly, leaning in for another kiss. _Wouldn't change a thing._

 

**_the end._ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading :)
> 
> I know this wasn't a very long story, but I still hope you enjoyed it.


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